THE
RECIPE
By
Michael
Edwin Q.
I had the opportunity and the good
fortune to meet and speak with the world renowned “Chef Courier”, head chef at
“Michelle’s”, the last word in French cuisine in the city.
I was the guest of Mrs. X, the
wife of a car salesman. I should rephrase that. She was the wife of a man who
owned car lots in all the mainland states; and if I were to drop the name, it
would be familiar.
We were both a little tipsy from
the wine, Mrs. X raved on and on about the magnificent meal we just devoured.
The Madre Dee suggested we pay our respects to the Chef in person. They
escorted us from our table and into the kitchen. It was all so entertaining,
but the least they could do, since the amount Mrs. X shelled out for our dinner
for two could have otherwise bought a small hospital wing.
Chef Courier was a big man…overly
big…he looked as if he had eaten anything and everything he ever cooked. He did
have panache. His French accent flavored every word he uttered.
“I am so grateful you enjoyed my cooking,”
he announced humbly.
“How could one not?” said Mrs. X.
“So, what is your secret?” I
asked.
“It’s no secret,” was his reply.
“Of course, you have to have a passion for what you are doing, but isn’t that
true of anything, if you want to do them well? The other thing is to know the
correct amount in a recipe. Not enough salt…and there is no flavor. Too much
salt and it is too salty. Too much sugar and it is too sweet.
“It is always best to not have
enough…you can always add more, but if you put in too much, there is no way you
can subtract from what is there. There is such a thing as too much of a good
thing.”
“So, that is your recipe for being
a great chef?” I asked.
“No, Masseur…that is the recipe
for life!”
THE END
Don't forget I'LL SEE YOU IN MY DREAMS by Michael Edwin Q.
